Pendulum
by Catching Rain
Summary: Love that transcends war, sickness, and time... That is a bond that, once made between two people, can never be broken. Tested, surely, but never broken.


Disclaimer: Trauma Centre belongs to ATLUS.

Author's Rant: This is a VEEEERY long overdue oneshot fic for TCGeek. (knocks dust out of corners of publish page) I feel terrible; it's like, a year overdue. But I hope I did make up for it with this fic. TCGeek, here is your fluff!

Something to keep in mind - I wanted to try writing something different, as far as storyline goes. So, with that said, please read it all the way through; I know it's kind of random, but hopefully you all will like it. As far as I know, there aren't any other stories like it in the Trauma Center category, so... yeah.

* * *

_"Love that transcends war, sickness, and time... That is a bond that, once made between two people, can never be broken. Tested, surely, but never broken."_

**Pendulum**

_December 1856; Lawrence County, Pennsylvania_

As snow drifted gently down from a blanket of clouds, Lawrence County quietly celebrated Christmas day. Fir trees strung with garland rested in the corner of homes with a few toys underneath for the children; a wooden rocking horse, or a new set of jacks, or a new dolly. Mothers flitted around their kitchens, meticulously preparing the supper for that evening, and their husbands and children helped, and a general feeling of love and family overcame the town. Doctor Kenneth Blackwell was certainly no exception. He, his wife Abigail, and their only daughter, ten-year-old Angela, were spending their fifth Christmas together in America. The three of them sat huddled around the fire, talking gaily about this and that over coffee (or, in Angie's case, listening vaguely while admiring the new dress her mother had made for her and sipping on a mug of cocoa).

The quaintness of the morning, however, was broken by a frantic knock at the door. Startled, Blackwell jerked in his chair and spilt hot coffee down his front. He swore loudly, leaping to his feet while Abigail fetched a rag for him to soak up some of the coffee. While they were trying to clean up the mess, Angie decided she would have to see who was there. She braced herself for the cold air, crossed the room, and opened the door. There stood fifteen-year-old Derek Stiles, the young farmhand for Farmer Jenkins down the way, and the first friend Angie had ever made in Lawrence County. He befriended her when everyone else avoided her, and taught her English when she felt alienated for only speaking German. She affectionately called him "Brother Derek" because he treated her like a little sister.

Now, standing in her doorway, Derek looked distraught. His scarf hung loosely around his shoulders, his face was red and his eyes were watering from the blistering cold, and he was panting as if he ran the whole four miles from his house to hers. Angie's eyes widened at the sight of him. "Brother Derek, what's wrong?"

"Angie, I need to see the doctor! It's urgent!" Derek panted. Angie knew that something was definitely awry now; Derek _never_ called her father 'doctor;' he always called him Mr. Ken or something less formal. At hearing his name being called, Blackwell abandoned the rag and approached the doorway.

"Come in out of the cold, lad; you'll freeze to death. You can tell me what's wrong inside," the wizened doctor urged. Derek shook his head wildly.

"Doctor, there's no time! It's my father...!" Derek cried. "He collapsed this morning, and he's coughing and has a terrible fever. Please, you must come and help him!"

Without a second thought, Blackwell reached for his heavy overcoat on the stand near the door and quickly slid into his boots. He turned to the worried boy. "All right, son. I'll do what I can. But you should stay here and warm up."

"But--"

"You'll do your father no good by getting yourself ill, as well. Abigail, would you fix him some cocoa? And Angie, get the poor boy a blanket. I'm off." The finality in his tone made it clear that there would be no questions asked. Derek was practically dragged inside by Abigail and Angie and the door slammed shut behind him. Angie made him sit in her father's favorite chair and wrapped a blanket over his shoulders as her mother found the jar of cocoa beans and went to work preparing a mug.

"Here you go, Derek," Abigail said softly, handing him the steaming mug. "I know you're worried about your father, but the best thing for you to do right now is just to calm down, okay?"

"Yeah!" Angie piped in. "Daddy will do his best to make your daddy better! So don't be so down!"

Derek smiled in spite of the circumstances. He patted Angie on the head and ruffled her long hair a little. "Thanks, kiddo. And thank you, Ma'am, for the cocoa."

Several hours passed that Christmas day, ebbing slowly by with anticipation of what would happen at the forefront of Derek's mind. Angie insisted that he teach her how to play jacks (because normally girls were disinterested in boyish things such as that) to keep his mind occupied, and for a while it worked. But even playing jacks gets boring after about the hundredth game, and from that, they moved onto card games that Angie attempted but couldn't wrap her head around. Eventually, Angie gave up on trying to play, because the only thing she had left were her dolls, which were highly inappropriate for a fifteen-year-old boy to play with, even out of respect for his younger friend.

Finally, as the sun was beginning to set on the western horizon, the gallop of horses on shallow snow could be heard from the house. Derek rushed to the door and threw it open... and was surprised to see not only the doctor tethering his horse to the fencepost in the front of the yard, but his own mother, as well. Her face was obscured by her hair and her scarf, so her expression was unreadable. Blackwell's expression, however, was stoic. Abigail pushed past Derek and met her husband out in the yard. Muttered words were passed between them, and her hands flew up to her face.

"The ground is too frozen to dig. They'll have to stay with us until the temperature warms enough," Blackwell murmured, but Derek heard. It was enough to tell him exactly what he didn't want to hear.

"Doctor, you're not saying...? Please, tell me my father's okay!" Derek pleaded. A sob escaped his mother, who was still standing by the horse she had ridden. Derek looked from her trembling form back to the man standing before him. Blackwell put a hand on Derek's shoulder and shook his head solemnly.

"I'm sorry, Derek. The pneumonia had already shut down his lungs before I got to him. There was nothing to be done."

"You're lying! He isn't... he isn't dead!" Desperation made his voice crack to a higher octave than normal. Hysterics became more and more apparent as he stammered on. "He can't be...! He was fine just a few days ago! You have to go back and help him, Doctor, please! There's got to be something to help him--"

A tug on the back of his shirt made Derek stop in his tracks. He turned around to see little Angie, with tears threatening to fall from her eyes and a sad look on her face. "Please don't cry, Brother Derek... It'll get better..." she sniffled. She flung out and hugged him from behind, burying her face into his back. "We'll help you make it better, I promise... I promise."

_Is it all right for me to move on?_

* * *

_September 1859; Lawrence County, Pennsylvania_

"Haha! My basket is fuller than yours!"

"No way! Mine has more apples!"

Angie ran around the orchard on the Jenkins' farm, helping Derek with the apple harvest. Much to her mother's dismay, she was donned in some of Derek's old clothes, because climbing trees was just too difficult to do in a dress. His breeches were too big on her, though, so she constantly had to roll up the ends of them so that she wouldn't trip on the legs. Together, they would hoist basket after basket from tree to tree, and Derek would lift Angie up in the tree to pick the apples. She was smaller, and could maneuver her way through the tangle of branches more deftly than he ever could (granted, Angie wouldn't have been able to lift her five-year senior even if she tried - his slightly built frame was just too heavy for her). The two of them were an apple-picking force to be reckoned with.

"If you two lovebirds keep this up, there won't be any apples left for the worms!" Old Man Jenkins called from his tractor in the fields directly adjacent to the apple orchard. The two teens blushed profusely, but when they caught sight of each other's embarrassment at such a comment, they just started laughing. The early autumn air had a jovial feel to it; the clear skies and cool breeze made it hard _not _to laugh on such a day. The feeling of contentment was contagious.

"Bet'cha can't catch me!" Angie sang, lifting her basket to her waist and taking off running toward the next tree. Her bare feet pounded on the compacted soil as her heels hit the ground.

"Oh, yeah? How much do you want to bet?" Derek grabbed his own basket and tore after her, matching her speed but unable to grab her because his arms were full. "Hey...! That's cheating!"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Nu-uh! We're supposed to be picking apples, remember?" She giggled and came to an abrupt halt, leaving him to stumble past her and have to double back. He almost tripped and fell on his face too, and she doubled over in laughter at the humor in his attempt to stay upright. He mock pouted as he stomped back, setting his miraculously undamaged apple basket on the ground next to the tree. He grabbed Angie around the middle and hoisted her up to the lowest branch.

"Get up there," he chuckled. She scrambled around, grabbing as many apples as her arm capacity would allow and then dropping them one at a time so that Derek could catch them without the apples getting bruised. The higher she climbed, the bigger the apples. And when she thought she had completely wiped the tree of its fruit, she spotted a large, shiny apple hanging from a thin branch near the very top of the tree. It was astonishing how such a small limb could support such a huge apple, and Angie wanted to get it before it fell to the ground and was wasted. The only problem was that the branches surrounding it were also on the thin side, and looked hardly enough to support her weight.

Still, Angie thought, it was worth trying. Holding most of her weight onto the thickest branch she could find, Angie carefully shimmied her way closer to the apple. The farther she went, the more dangerously her support bent. When she felt like she could go no farther, Angie reached out as far as she could, and her fingertips barely grazed the shiny fruit.

"Just... a little bit... further..." she muttered. At last, she finally got a grip on the apple, and with a mighty yank, she pulled it from the tree. Unfortunately, she had no time to celebrate, because no sooner had she got the apple that the branch underneath her gave way with a sickening crack, and suddenly the ground was rising up to meet her. She screamed as she was whipped and scratched by the tree as she descended, and she flinched in preparation for the painful impact with the ground...

But it never came. Instead, her fall was suddenly stopped by a strong pair of arms, and even though she still hit the ground, it was with much less pain than she thought. When Angie finally peeked one eye open, she was on the ground in Derek's lap, who had managed to catch her, albeit the force of her falling caused his legs to give way underneath him. He had a look on his face that was a cross between relief, irritation and pain, and Angie laughed nervously, holding up the apple.

"Want it?" she suggested sheepishly. He sent her a mild glare.

"No thanks. Next time, take better care to _not _fall out of trees, okay?"

Angie giggled again. "Sure thing. Because next time, my knight in shining armor might not be there to break my fall, right?" She pecked him on the cheek, and then hopped up to grab her basket. "Last one back to the barn is a rotten egg!" She taunted, running off.

But Derek just kind of sat there, pondering what in the world had just happened. He pressed a hand to the cheek she had kissed and blushed. Then his face contorted, and he shook his head wildly.

"She's _thirteen_, for crying out loud. Get a hold of yourself, Derek," he muttered to himself, getting to his feet and following Angie back to the barn.

_Is it all right for me to dream again?_

* * *

_May 1861; Lawrence County, Pennsylvania_

It was a day of mixed feelings for the small town that they had grown up together in. Somewhere along the line between that day at the orchard and the start of the Civil War, Derek realized that he had grown to love Angie more than he had ever thought possible. Likewise, Angie realized that somewhere along the line, she had stopped thinking of Derek as an older brother, but something more... and it had taken them a long time to come to terms with it. Derek felt like he was too old for her; that, him being five years older than her, he shouldn't be thinking those kinds of thoughts. Angie felt like there were other girls, older girls who were more deserving of him than she.

Of course, them both feeling the way they did, a confrontation was bound to happen, where they wouldn't be able to hold their feelings in from each other. In fact, it had been on Angie's fifteenth birthday. Derek invited Angie to come fishing with him, to catch the trout from one of the deltas of the Ohio River for her birthday supper. Of course, it had seemed innocent enough to everyone; she went fishing with him all the time. Somehow, they had gotten on the topic of love interests, and when neither one of them wanted to declare who it was that they loved, it soon became apparent. The day ended with a soft kiss that sent both of their hearts racing. That day, a promise was made between them, that they would let nothing keep them from being together.

That was before the siege of Fort Sumter. That was before President Lincoln asked for volunteers to join the army and fight off the Confederacy.

All of the young men in Lawrence County immediately volunteered to join the army, and Derek was certainly no exception. Doc Blackwell, who was treated like Derek's surrogate father, was proud of Derek for wanting to serve his country, but could not condone the evils of war and refused to volunteer. Now, it was the day that the 89th Regiment of Pennsylvania was being sent to the front lines down in the South. All of the men were gathered by the schoolhouse, the largest building in town, saying their goodbyes to their family and friends. Derek finished talking to his mother, and to Doc Blackwell and his wife, and went to join the other guys, when he saw Angie standing a ways away from her parents (but little did she know that they could still see her). She approached him as soon as she spotted him.

"Do you really have to go?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood with a hint of childishness. A faint smile graced Derek's lips, and he laughed lightly.

"Yes, unfortunately, I do. But don't worry too much. Rumor has it that the war will be over before Christmas, so if that's the case, I'll see you before too long."

"But what if that's not the case?" Angie questioned, bringing up a valid point.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, though, Old Man Jenkins needs a new farmhand." Angie scoffed. So typical of him to joke around situations that didn't call for it. But her attention was caught when she saw him rummaging through the many pockets in the haversack at his waist. From it, he pulled out a small wooden whistle on a leather string. "I use this to calm the horses, but seeing as I'm going to be walking more often than not, I think you'll find more use for it than me." He pressed the whistle into Angie's hand and closed her fingers around it. He leaned in closer so the others couldn't hear, and said, "And anytime you blow that whistle, no matter where I'm at, I'll hear it and think of you."

Angie suddenly felt tears well up in her eyes, and she threw her arms around him and pulled him into a bear hug. "Derek, please take care of yourself out there!"

Derek was taken aback. "Whoa, now, it's all right... Don't cry... Hey." He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her right in the eyes. "The day that I let some grey back get the best me is the day that pigs will fly!" He hugged her once more, and kissed her on the top of the head. "Wait for me, okay?"

With a giant nod, Angie agreed. "Forever, if I have to." Derek smiled, waved, and turned to join the other soldiers, who had begun forming ranks to move out. Angie felt a wave of emotion overcoming her, and she ran the whole way back to her house, tears streaming down her face.

_Is it all right, even if I cry just a little? _

* * *

_June 1865; Lawrence County, Pennsylvania_

It was the day he had been looking forward to for four years. Four years of fighting, of triumph and failure, of friends lost and friends gained... four long, painful years of waiting. And yet, now that the day had finally come, everything was put into perspective, and thinking back, Derek thought it was all worth it. And now, he was among the last of the 89th Regiment to return from the war, mainly due to him helping the sick and wounded home. Now, he was among the ranks of friends from his hometown, eagerly awaiting the moment when the town would come into view. He nearly jumped out of his skin in anticipation when he finally saw the schoolhouse on the horizon.

Onward, he marched, a grin of ecstasy spreading across his face as the buildings grew upon approach. When he could contain his excitement no longer, he broke from the ranks (and no one cared anymore, for the war was over) and made a mad dash for his house. He had sent a letter ahead of him, and he had received a reply telling him that they would all meet at the house he had lived in for his entire life. As he drew closer, he saw his mother standing by the gate, along with Doc Blackwell and his wife. However, the one person he longed to see the most, the one person whose face kept him fighting all this time, was absent.

Genuine smiles greeted him as they saw him come home. Oh, how Derek had missed the smiles of his family, both real and surrogate. He missed the warmth of their embraces. But there was something else behind the smiles, and their embraces... it showed in their eyes. Worry, or pain, or even worse, both. Derek's elation to see them deflated a little by this. Doc Blackwell put his hand on Derek's shoulder and said, "Welcome home, son." But the gesture belied his warm and hearty words. The only other time he had ever put his hand on Derek's shoulder in that manner was the day his father died. And so Derek feared the worse.

"Where's Angie?" he said, not fooled for a minute. They all bowed their heads, and Doc Blackwell was the one to break the silence. When he looked at the older man, it was the first time Derek had seen the man cry.

"Derek, I'm going to be frank with you. She's not well, and she hasn't been well for several months. It started last fall... Farmer Jenkins's daughter caught it first, and spread it to her mother. Angie volunteered to help care for them, and caught it herself."

"I don't understand," said Derek slowly. "What did she catch...?"

His mother sighed shakily. "Tuberculosis, Derek. It started out with just a cough, and then a fever... now, she hasn't even the strength to stand anymore."

The shock of this was almost unbearable. In her letters, Angie always said that everyone was doing well! She couldn't be dying... Derek took a shuddering breath. "Where is she?"

"In the house," Abigail breathed. He made his way to go in there, but his mother grabbed his arm.

"Derek..." she said. "Promise me that you'll love her dearly. Maybe your love will pull her through the way ours cannot." He was surprised that she knew that he was in love with Angie. Then again, he wrote letters to her every chance he got, even more than to his own mother, and he supposed it was just a mother's intuition. He nodded, and then pushed through the front door. She was not in the living room, so he went into his bedroom, one of the two bedrooms in the house. There, on his bed, lay Angie, sleeping through the anguish. He swiftly made his way to her bedside, where he knelt down and took one of her hands into both of his. Her hands were ice cold.

"Angie," he whispered. She did not stir. "Angie, please wake up. It's me... It's Derek. I'm here."

Ever so slowly, her eyes opened and fell upon him, his dirty face and tousled hair, the musket on his back and the knapsack at his waist. His wire glasses glinted in the sunlight that drifted in from the window. And when she finally drunk in enough of him to wake her fully, she smiled wide. "You're home... At last, you're finally home."

Derek stood slightly and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead, to let her know he was real. "That's right. And I'm home to stay, Angie. Haven't you heard? The war is over. I can be home to care for you forever now." He squeezed her hand to reassure her. Her smile brightened the slightest bit.

"I'm so glad you're safe," she said, her words so quiet that Derek could hardly hear her. "I've been waiting all this time. Every day, I waited for the letter that told me you were safe to live another day, the letter that told me you were coming home. That day... it finally came. And here you are now, just as you are, just as you ever were and ever will be. It's really you." Tears of joy trickled from her eyes down the sides of her face.

Derek didn't really understand what she was getting at. Either that or he didn't want to understand. So, instead of replying to it, instead of showing just how scared he was, he simply asked her, "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" It was the one thing he could come up with that wouldn't betray his underlying terror.

"Could you light a candle or two? It's so dark in here that I can hardly see you," Angie requested. Derek's breath hitched in his throat; the early afternoon sun was shining brightly in the room. A candle wouldn't have lit it up any better than it was, and yet to Angie, it was almost pitch dark. She looked at his thinning uniform, with numerous rips in it, and lifted a pale hand to one of the holes. "Aren't you freezing with all of those holes? This house is so cold today. It's so bizarre; you would think that spring would bring with it the warmth of summer."

Tears were now flowing freely down Derek's face. He had been too late - the war had not ended soon enough, he had been so stupid to volunteer for the stupid army, and now, there was nothing he could do to keep his true love from dying in his arms. "Angie," he shuddered, "listen to me. I love you, you understand? I love you with _all of my heart_, and _nothing_ will _ever_ change that. Do you hear me?"

Angie was crying now, too. "I hear you, Derek. I love you, too." She was struggling to keep her eyes open, to fight off the sleep that was overtaking her, for she knew if she succumbed to sleep, that she was succumbing to death as well. She gripped Derek's hand with the little strength that she had left.

"And no sickness, no war, no _time_ will ever stop me from loving you!" Sobs racked Derek's shoulders as the heavy realization began to sink in. "Damn it all, Angie, you can't die! I can't lose you, not now, not ever! Please, Angie, don't die!"

Darkness was creeping in at the corners of Angie's eyes. She held on with all her might, but deep down, she knew she wasn't going to win this battle. "Please don't cry, Derek..." she wept, her voice fading fast."Please... don't cry... don't... cry..." And as she said this, the last of her strength was drained, and her hand fell limp, out of Derek's trembling hands and landing with a soft thump on the mattress.

"Angie...? Angie!? ANGIE!"

Derek's wails grew louder in intensity, but to Angie, his voice was growing softer by the second. She could still hear him crying out her name, and as much as she wanted to call for him, to comfort him, she had nothing left to give. She felt herself falling slowly through darkness with his heart-wrenching cries echoing around her.

_...Angie, please don't leave me like this...!_

_...You're too young to die! You've still got your whole life ahead of you..._

_...Please, God, don't take her away from me..._

And with every cry she heard, pain filled her more and more. Every wretched wail that Derek cried filled her with the desire to come to, to take his pain away and take it upon herself. And from that desire came newfound strength to pull through her weakness. Suddenly, Angie felt a warmth spread through her like wildfire, starting at her core and spreading to her limbs, and it fed her determination to find her way back to the one she loved. Sure enough, as she began the struggle back to the surface of consciousness, Derek's still-sobbing voice grew louder, only fueling her will to live.

_...C'mon, Angie... _

_...I know you're stronger than this...!_

_...You can pull through! I know you can!_

Finally, with a push of energy that she had no idea of its origins, Angie opened her eyes. A blinding light made her squint and refocus, but after only a short moment, her eyes readjusted, and she scanned the room. The objects had never seemed more foreign in her life. A continuous beeping noise rang in her left ear, and there were... _things_, for lack of a better word for them, sticking out of her arm and fingers. Something was strapped around her nose and mouth, and the room was completely white. She looked over to her right, where the only thing she recognized stood with a wet, shocked look of relief and disbelief on his face.

"D-De... rek..." the name was hard for her to say, simply because her lips cracked like they hadn't been used in a long while and her throat was extremely dry. If he hadn't believed she was alive when she stirred, hearing her voice certainly made him believe.

"My god..." Derek breathed. "It's a miracle...!" He flung himself into the chair at her bedside and clutched her hand gently, yet firmly in both of his, and a fresh set of tears, this time of joy, made its way to his eyes. "Angie, you... you're really... I can't believe this! I was terrified that you were going to die and it would have been all my fault...!"

At this point, Angie was extremely confused. She licked her lips, and barely managed to croak, "Wh-what... happened...?"

Guilt flashed in Derek's eyes. "Oh, Angie... you don't remember the accident?" At the mere mention of the word, images slammed into Angie's mind. Shattering glass, screeching tires, and blood... so much blood. Angie remembered all of this, and yet she still had the memories of the life she lived a over century ago. Those memories seemed so real... was it possible that it had all been only a dream? Derek continued, breaking into her reverie. "It was all my fault, Angie. You kept telling me that I should slow down, that the snow was only getting worse, but I didn't listen. And it cost you so much...! It almost cost you your life, Angie!"

It was obvious that an inner battle was raging within the poor man. He buried his face in his hands and went on. "We went over a ridge I didn't see because of the snow, and the car flipped. I wasn't wearing my seatbelt, so I was thrown from the car, but you were stuck inside as it was flattened like a pancake. You were pronounced dead three times, but you always came back... and then the last time, they said you were comatose."

Now that Angie was slowly readjusting to the current time, the word 'comatose' suddenly had a meaning that wasn't Greek to her. The weight of it suddenly came crashing down. "How long...?" she asked.

Derek shuddered, fighting down tears, and held his voice as steady as possible when he looked her in the eye and said, "Four years." He looked as if he wanted to say more, but couldn't find the right words to say. He expected her to hate him for costing her four years of her life that she could never reclaim, for not listening to her in the first place, for everything that went wrong that fateful winter night.

Instead, she gazed at him with a look of astonishment on her face. She was acutely aware of how rare it was for a comatose patient to wake after even just one year, let alone four. And yet, here he was, sitting at her bedside, talking with her when she had been near death just thirty minutes previous. "You waited four years... for me?" Derek nodded.

"I was so scared that you would die before... before I got to tell you just how much I love you, Angie," Derek whispered. "I was stupid for not saying any this before... you mean everything to me, and so I couldn't let you go! I've been waiting all this time... and I would have waited forever, if I had to. I love you with all of my heart, and that's why... that's why I waited." Derek fell into silence, having poured his heart out all at once.

Angie was still completely dumbfounded at the lengths he went to stay by her side, and it awed her, and made her love him even more. At the moment, however, all her tired body would allow her to say was, "I love you too, Derek."

And no sooner had those words come out of her mouth that Nurse Sears came in with a chart that she hadn't had to update in four years. So you can imagine her surprise when she saw her good friend staring back at her. With an astonished shriek, she ran back out of the room, fetching all of the staff she could find to spread the news that Angie had finally awakened. Derek still sat by Angie and held her hand, and Angie smiled contentedly, just happy to be alive.

As people she recognized came pouring into her room to confirm the news for their own eyes, Angie felt a lump in the pocket of her hospital gown. She reached into the pocket and pulled out a tiny wooden whistle on a leather string, and she smiled. It was a small reminder that true love can face the strongest of opponents, even Time and Death itself, and live to tell the tale. And as people were crying tears of joy and wishing her welcome back, Angie thought to herself,

"_Life and love are truly amazing, huh?_"

* * *

_Is it all right for me to dream again?  
Is it all right for me to move on?  
Is it all right, even if I cry just a little?  
Closing my eyes, I am touched by what it means to live _

* * *

**End notes**: Tee hee, I had you guys going there for a minute, didn't I? Really now, did you honestly think I could kill Angie off that easy? Sure, tuberculosis sucks, but I couldn't kill her off. I'm not that mean. Now, I want to apologize if Derek seems OOC at the end there - I had a reeeeeeally hard time writing that part, and no matter how I wrote it he always ended up sounding like a crybaby. So this was the least crybabyish way for me to put it. The end was really disappointing for me, but hopefully the other parts more than made up for it. It's not one of my best works, but it's certainly different. :D

Oh, and the song lyrics are actually translations from a song called "Prologue End" by Acid Black Cherry. I didn't realize just how beautiful the song was until I came across the translation, and then I thought, "This is perfect!" Also, the reason the story is called "Pendulum" is that a pendulum is a symbol of undying love (or at least, it is where I'm from). So I hope you all enjoyed this, and don't forget to review, please!


End file.
